The Thrice Born Page 25

  There was the sound of the hall door being thrown open and hitting the wall.

  Jason looked there, ready to battle whatever foe had taken Estelle. He didn’t recognize the man standing there, but the glint of medals on General Scott’s uniformed chest caught the light pulse.

  Jason glared at him, the threat of tears fighting to be shed as he heard his son’s cries.

  Scott looked around the room as a few more soldiers in maroon uniforms and blue berets gathered behind him in the doorway.

  His attention returned to Jason as he bit into the stogie in his mouth. “Come with me.”

  The aftermath of the storm and damaged delivery room was compounded by Jason’s weariness and loss.

  The nurse had taken his son to the maternity ward’s nursery as the back-up generators came back online and Dr. Morton was strangely absent for questioning.

  Jason assumed the doctor had his own answering to do to the hospital administration.

  So did Jason.

  He sat in the comfortable conference room set aside for General Scott’s use several hours later, feeling the adrenalin leave him and take with it his spirit.

  Estelle was gone.

  The Nephilim had invaded during the birth of his child, and now he was alone with a lot of questions. Again.

  He glanced to the soldiers standing at ease around the room, and then to the general across the table.

  Scott’s eyes were on the sword blaster Jason still held, now resting on the table.

  “Who were those creatures attacking you, Mr. Newhart?” He bit down on the cigar, glaring down hard on Jason. He didn’t break eye contact as Jason refused to answer, instead shifting slightly to where his lieutenant stood. “Run the tape.”

  The adjunct immediately switched on the television screen in the corner showing the security camera’s view of the Estelle’s delivery in the birthing room. It was a short scene, with the tape halting and jerking from power surges, and the lighting was poor, but there was no mistaking the Nephilim as Jason brandished the sword against their attack.

  Jason didn’t want to talk about the fight. He wanted his wife and his son and his privacy.

  Scott gave a stern smile. “How’d you learn to fight like that?”

  Jason scowled, feeling the general had missed the point on the matter.

  Scott raised an eyebrow.“I’ve studied martial arts and hand-to-hand combat since I was sixteen. No one can use a weapon like that without practice. I know you taught, Mr. Newhart, but you didn’t teach anything like that.”

  Jason’s attention dropped to the sword. On its hilt was a word that was carefully carved below the guard above the wrapped handle. It simply read Levandra.

  Scott smirked. “Where’d you get the weapon, Jason?”

  “Give me my baby, General,” Jason finally said, measuring his words with the last of his self-control. “Unless I’m some kind of an enemy combatant, I want my child and I want to go home.”

  “That’s a fine request.” Scott lost his smile. “Interesting delivery. Where’s your wife?”

  Jason’s hand closed tighter around the sword hilt. “I have no idea.”

  “I’ve looked over this tape many times. It’s like your wife just disappeared into thin air.”

  Jason allowed a small sigh. “Tell me about it.”

  “You don’t seem very surprised.”

  A longsuffering tone came to Jason’s voice. “General, the only thing I feel now is numbness. Everything I loved is gone.”

  Scott pushed a sore spot. “How about your baby?”

  “Except my child, who I’ve only seen once,” Jason said bitingly. “I think you should let me have my child. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I could cite a weapon within five-hundred feet of a hospital,” Scott said. “Or child neglect, or endangerment, if CPS wanted to get touchy, but,” he relented with a sigh, “no. You fought bravely for your wife and child.”

  For a long moment they held a heavy stare, and then Scott shook his head. He gave a nod to his adjutant.

  The lieutenant turned and opened the hall door.

  Jane looked in, sheepish and tired. In her arms was a baby swaddled in a large hospital baby blanket. She looked to Jason, smiling motherly at him.

  He stood up immediately, tucking the sword into his belt at his side in absence of a scabbard.

  Jane ignored the impropriety of the weapon; she’d ignored quite a lot of them that night.

  She carefully passed the child into Jason’s arms, whispering “Congratulations” to him as he held the child close.

  She left, and Jason turned to look at Scott still at the table.

  “Can I leave?”

  “No.” Before Jason could object, Scott continued. “The hospital wants to keep the baby under observation for awhile. And, you need to stay here while we look for your wife.”

  Jason didn’t like the sound of it. “How long?”

  “Maybe a week or two at most.”

  “And then I can leave?”

  Scott nodded. “Yes.”

  Jason looked down at the child. They had decided to name him Enoch. He wished Estelle was there so he could hear her say the name aloud. He looked back to Scott. “I stay, too, as long as my son is here.”

  Scott consented. “Make the arrangements.”

  The next few days were a blur for Jason. Automatically he made the necessary arrangements to get a room in the maternity ward’s family area to be near Enoch. At first Jane was the steady face in the nursery when he collected his son, but by day two, she was replaced with another nurse.

  Jason knew enough about the military to recognize one of their own. The nurse who was in charge of Enoch’s keep was a smartly dressed woman in her late thirties, her daisy decorated smock not fooling Jason. She was military issue, and within two more days he realized the whole ward was staffed by military nurses.

  He supposed it had to happen, to do damage control after the Nephilim attack.

  “To give the staff some much needed time off,” he was told by the head obstetrician.

  Jason knew better.

  He tried to talk to Dr. Morton, but the doctor who had delivered Enoch under the strangest of circumstances was closed mouthed.

  “I am a gynecologist and obstetrician,” the doctor told him uncomfortably when questioned. “I attend to the mother and deliver the infant; you need to check with the baby’s pediatrician.”

  It wasn’t the only concern Jason had. He decided to pay Dr. Parker a visit.

  The hospital put up little fight about Jason’s request to let Enoch out of their custody. Jason hated the term; as if he was not the parent but a keeper. There were forms to sign and Dr. Parker was phoned and spoken to, and then Jason was allowed to take the appointment.

  He stopped off at home on his way to the appointment.

  He hadn’t been at the Crib in nearly a week. A few calls to Benjamin had been enough, and Jason was in no mood to answer questions. Benjamin promised to take care of the casino.

  Jason didn’t tell anyone Estelle was gone. He couldn’t explain it, not even to Corky, and saying it aloud made it seem so permanent.

  At home, he took Enoch to the nursery Estelle had so lovingly set up. He held the baby to his side, cradled against his injured shoulder with a wince. “This is your room, Enoch,” he said, smiling as the child’s eyes roamed the room. “All yours. Your mother and I can paint it any color you like.”

  Enoch’s only response was a few saliva bubbles.

  Jason sighed, lowering the baby a bit so he could see his face better. Enoch was large, yes, but healthy and intact. Beneath the blue romper and blanket he could feel the bumps along the child’s spine, marking a distinction in the boy’s lineage.

  It wasn’t the only difference.

  The other mark was more unsettling. Jason had had time to think, and after looking through every copy of Mothering Monthly he could get his hands on, he assumed – or wanted to assume – that the tiny
birthmark appearing on Enoch’s chest was just that.

  A strawberry mark. Hemangioma. An oddly-shaped reddish colored birthmark that often appeared on a baby soon after birth, usually on the neck, but sometimes a head, face, or hip, according to the magazine articles.

  Jason let one finger pull down Enoch’s romper collar. There was no denying that this birthmark was anything but normal.

  He didn’t care. He lifted the child, kissing its plump cheek softly, feeling its breath on his face. “Your mother was a beautiful, strong woman, Enoch,” he said. “She loves you very much.”

  Enoch just stared back at him, dark eyes wide, a fuzz of fair hair barely covering his scalp.

  Jason fought back the urge to weep again, for his missing wife, at the prospect of a future, perhaps, without her.

  Instead, he bundled Enoch back into the blanket and left to meet with Dr. Parker.

  Jason tried not to think of Estelle during the drive through the Las Vegas traffic to the medical building. Estelle had warned him, told him she would have to leave one day, but he hadn’t thought it would be like this; not after the birth of their child, during a Nephilim attack, right from his very hands.

  Maybe she was still around, in hiding, waiting to appear to him in some form when it was safer. It was possible. After the events of the last year, Jason Newhart knew anything was possible.

  Dr. Parker made his usual examination of the child for its one-week check-up. After the weighing and measuring, the prodding and poking, the doctor put a stethoscope to the infant’s chest, listening.

  Jason tried to gauge how much the doctor knew about his special circumstances. He’d gotten an odd look when he brought Enoch through the waiting room door, but no one stopped him as he took the child into the examination room.

  If the large baby was not enough to draw stares, the questionable shape and contents of Jason’s diaper bag should have. It wasn’t the typical bag with the typical baby necessities. It was a long duffle more at home in a gym or dojo than for baby paraphernalia.

  Inside was the sword, a few diapers and bottles, spare clothes for Enoch, a few other lumpy items to help camouflage the shape of the sword from curious looks. It was the best Jason could do, and so far, no one had asked too many questions about it. After all, a father wouldn’t carry some prissy diaper bag a mother would, he figured.

  But no one asked and Jason had the feeling they’d been told by someone who could demand compliance not to ask. Like General Scott.

  “Good to see a father with such interest in his child’s welfare,” Dr. Parker was saying, moving the stethoscope around Enoch’s chest, listening.

  Jason nodded, waiting for the inevitable questions about where the mother was. None came.

  “He’s only one week old?”

  “Yes.”

  The doctor smiled. “He’s huge. He’s on the charts where most babies are for the first month’s weight and length.”

  “I know.” Jason didn’t really know those exact details, but he knew Enoch was exceptionally large.

  “He looks healthy as a horse.”

  Enoch had lost some of the tight-limbed movements of a newborn, but he was very much alert, his large eyes following the doctor’s movements.

  “His vital signs are strong.” Dr. Parker ran a finger over Enoch’s chest. “Where did he get the tattoo?”

  “That?” Jason tried to appear casual about the mark. “He was born with it. Must be a birthmark.”

  Dr. Parker shook his head, pulling his glasses from his white coat. “Impossible. It’s too distinct of an image.” He put on the glasses and peered closer at Enoch’s chest. He reached to a drawer under the table and pulled out a magnifying glass and looked closer at the mark. “By God,” he said slowly, frowning. “I recognize the image. It’s very clear under the lens.”

  Jason moved closer. “You recognize it?”

  “I’ve gone to Mexico too many times on the Doctors Without Borders teams not to. It’s a plumed serpent.” He stood straighter, nodding. “Looks exactly like Quetzalcóatl.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s an Aztec symbol. A plumed serpent; a sort of wedding between a quetzal, which is a very colorful, well-plumed Latin American bird, and a cóatl, a snake. The bird flies in the air towards the heavens. The snake slithers on the ground,” he explained. “According to legend, Quetzalcóatl is a hybrid creature, a god of the Aztecs, representing a wedding between heaven and earth.”

  Jason didn’t like the possible indications for Enoch. “What’s that got to do with my son?”

  “I don’t know.” Dr. Parker gave Jason a more thorough look. “No one in his right mind would have a child this small tattooed.”

  “I told you it isn’t a tattoo.” Jason didn’t reach for the diaper bag, but the sword was on his mind.

  Dr. Parker gave him a narrow look. “And I told you that’s impossible. Are you a member of a gang?”

  Jason didn’t laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “Of course not. I own the Crib.”

  “The casino.”

  “Yes.”

  There was a heavy silence for a moment, as if the doctor was sorting through matters on his own, his eyes on Enoch as the child waved its arms and legs, watching his father.

  “Well, then, you don’t need to belong to a gang,” Dr. Parker said slowly. He carefully turned Enoch over, one hand running down the child’s spine, feeling the bony knots there. “On a more serious note, what are these bumps on his back? The delivery report was sketchy, to say the least. Were there complications during labor?”

  Jason watched the doctor’s face. He knew that the doctor knew well about the spinal anomalies during the first trimester ultrasounds from Dr. Bryant. He didn’t inquire about Dr. Parker’s sudden lack of knowledge. Jason knew the military intelligence was far-reaching. He was quite certain General Scott had spoken to both doctors. “I don’t know what those are. I just noticed them recently, so I guess that’s what showed up during his pre-birth sonograms. They aren’t tumors?”

  Dr. Parker’s fingers gently felt the child’s back. For a moment he looked as if he wanted to ask more questions, as if he were going to take Jason into a confidence he was forbidden from discussing. Instead, he sighed, smiling a bit at Enoch as the child turned his face to see them.

  “No,” he said. “Nor do I think they’re interfering with his health.” He tipped his glasses to give Enoch a wink before looking to Jason. “Still, I’d like to schedule an MRI for the lad, just to be sure.”

  Jason nodded. “I’ll check my schedule.”

  Dr. Parker pulled Enoch’s top back better over him, nodding. “Let me know, Jason, whatever I can do for you,” he said gravely, eyes still on the child. “I do mean that.”

  Jason wasn’t sure how to receive the offer, but he nodded, and then readied Enoch for their trip back to the hospital.

  Jason made a few phone calls to Benjamin on his way to meet with General Scott at the hospital. He’d let the details of his first child’s birth remain clouded to the casino manager and had no intention of telling anyone the truth anytime soon.

  “No one would believe me, Enoch,” he told the child in the car seat in the back of the Jaguar. “Well, maybe Corky would. And maybe Benjamin. But not yet.”

  After all, Benjamin had seen some strange things during his time at the Crib. Jason made a few excuses, and then requested that Benjamin move a crib into his personal rooms at the casino.

  To give Estelle some time to recover, was the excuse.

  Benjamin had laughed at the idea of a crib inside the Crib, and Jason let it go at that. It was far better than trying to explain the truth.

  He wanted Enoch with him at all times, and the sword blaster nearly as close. It was going to take some creativity.

  Half an hour later he sat across the table from General Scott. The officer watched him carefully, eyes flicking to Enoch in Jason’s arm a few times.

  Jason kept the duffle bag slung over his s
houlder by its long strap, the zipper half pulled. Just in case.

  The detail had not escaped Scott’s notice.

  “Well, your son has a clean bill of health,” Scott said, his hand on a single sheet of paper on the table. “Some anomalies, but you know what they are.”

  Jason didn’t ask, but it was clear to him that Dr. Parker had already made his report to Scott. “Yes.”

  “You can leave now,” Scott said, his gaze going to the bag at Jason’s shoulder before returning back to him, “but you have to lose the weapon, Jason.”

  I can’t do that, General.” Jason stood up. “I need it.”

  Scott took on his best tone for dealing with the public. “We can’t have civilians walking around with unknown, dangerous weapons.” He saw Jason’s free hand slip into the bag as his other arm hitched Enoch higher to his chest. “I know you’ve got a past with the military —”

  “This is the only weapon I know how to use, General,” Jason said, gripping the sword’s hilt, his finger automatically finding the cross-guard trigger.

  Outside the open door, the sentry looked in, alerting to Jason’s movements.

  Scott remained seated. “Well, you can’t have it, Newhart.”

  Jason pulled the sword from the bag in one movement, turning to face the sentry now in the doorway, his hand on his sidearm. “Now unless you have some kind of written authorization to detain me,” Jason said to Scott, attention alternating from the general to the sentry, “I’m going to leave this hospital.”

  The sentry pulled his weapon, but Jason was faster. A short burst from the sword blaster burnt the sentry’s hand and melted the gun. He clutched his smoking hand, staring wildly at Jason.

  Scott made a quick nod to the sentry, and the younger man fled down the hall.

  “I’m walking out of here, General,” Jason said. “One way or the other.”

  “Have it your way, Jason.” Scott watched the sword angle toward him. “Be careful how you point that thing. And as long as you’re going to be hard-ass stubborn about this,” he decided, “you’re going to meet a lot of trigger-happy men on your way out of here.”

  Jason nodded and backed to the door.